


Hell In Her Eyes

by Detroitbydark



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: AU af, Canon What Canon, Dark, Dark Fairytale, Dark Romance, Demon!Harry - Freeform, F/M, Hevie - Freeform, Smut, mentions of self harm, witch!evie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-21 16:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15562227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroitbydark/pseuds/Detroitbydark
Summary: The devil doesn't come to you with a red face and horns, he comes to you disguised as everything you've ever wanted.-Tucker Max





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

The first time he sees her she is a welp not much older than five.

He’s drawn to the the spire she’s in by the thick cloud of dark magic surrounding it. The feel of it tickles his senses and raises goose flesh on his arms. He hasn’t felt such evil for a millennia and the thought of finding its creator is too enticing to pass up. He circles the tower twice, flicking away the wards placed around it as if they were annoying gnats. The magic is strong but he is the son of a king and they are no match for his own brand of power.

Finding no discernable entrance he is unperturbed. His curiosity is piqued. Talon like nails allow his finger to grip into the mortar between the bricks as he ascends to the lone window. He is effortless in his movements, climbing with cat like grace.

He eyes roam the room carefully. He’s less inclined to believe it’s a trap but he hadn’t survived this long being unwary.

It is a small apartment furnished, not unlike those of the peasants in Auradon. A simple kitchen and small bed are pushed against the round walls. A small chest of drawers and bookshelf are near the window. He finds himself disappointed that the source of such gloriously dark magic isn’t to be found. He wanted to make a deal with them.

He turns to leave but stills at the sound he hears. Whimpering, like that if a small wounded animal, catches his attention. He moves toward it, hunting it down. He finds her than, a small girl-child bundled in rags. She’s curled into a ball near the bookshelf. Her eyes are wedged shut and she cries softly in her sleep. Her body trembles in the cold of the night.

He scents the air. She is not the source of this magic. She smells saccharine sweet, like a dish of sugar. The smell of an innocent child. He watches her twitch and turn in her fitful slumber. He takes in the dark circles under her eyes and the jaggedly cut hair, midnight blue and butchered. He is ready to be done with this odd situation, frustrated that his curiosity has dragged him away from other business at hand when he takes another deep breath. This time something else hits him. A spicy scent. It warms the back of his throat and worms into his brain.

Dark magic. Or just a touch, a seedling of potential. Untapped and untrained. He stares at the small child shivering in the moonlight cast across the room. Her innocence had hidden it at first but as he moves closer he smells it again. Ever so gently, careful to sheath talons behind the human facade of nails, he lifts her from her spot on the cold stone. She turns in his arms nestling against his broad chest. Her face relaxes ever so slightly as she’s warmed by the heat of his body.  

He places her in bed, tucking her under covers, pressing them down around her in a protective cocoon. He watches her for a moment as her eyes slowly open. Sleepy brown depths stare at him for a moment before he waves a hand over her head.

“Sleep child” he murmurs quietly and her eyes obey him without fight.

He rises from the bed and makes it to the window before looking back on his curious discovery. It was never good to pique the curiosity of a demon.

 

* * *

Time moves differently for his kind and what may seem like a drop in the bucket for a creature like he is years to a mortal. He’s nearly forgotten that odd night when he is again brought to her spire. His ire has been ignited by the pack of underlings that has been said to be congregating in the great forest, drawing unwanted attention. He sees the shine of their eyes in the underbrush and high in the treetops, the acrid smell that clings to them makes his stomach turn.

He’s hit with a sense of recognition and it puts him on guard. He does not believe in coincidence. The dark magic that once permeated the valley the tower sat had aged poorly. While it seems as if the spell caster has reinforced their magic at times, it’s been done lazily and with little care.

Something else flows from the tower now that has brought the goblins out of hiding. It’s dark and wild. It flows out in waves and laps at his boots as he approaches.

Again, he ascends the Stone walls to the lone window. A candle is burning near the bed this evening and he notes the girl has grown. He wonders how many years have passed since he was here last. By his count no more than four could have passed but he isn’t entirely sure. She tosses and turns violently in her sleep. Waves of feral magic radiate from her. He kneels by her bed for a moment watching her teeth clench and her brow furrow. He waves a hand and slowly steps into her dream. Being part incubi has its perks even if his father saw his blood as tainted and his life worthless.

He sees her than, still with the dark circles under her eye staining her pale skin. The reason now is obvious. _Nightmares_ and _dream eaters_  surround her. These are not the bad dreams typical of childhood. They are the hellspawn goblins that feed off of a humans sleeping fear and with the magic the child possess her fear is only more delicious to them.

He watches for a moment as they tear at her hair and rake claws down the exposed skin of her calves. She screams in agony and he growls at the sound.

“Enough” he barks, smiling when the beasts freeze and slowly back into the shadows like scalded hounds.

Her terrified eyes light upon him and she runs to him throwing her frail arms about his waist.

“You’ve come back” her voice is muffled against the leather of his coat but the words are unmistakable.

“Do ye know me child?” He ask curiously. His voice holds the rich burr of the clans of the glorious North Isle, a place he was fond of and whose mannerisms he’d adopted as his own.

“You are The Man in Black.” She says pulling back slowly.

He looks down at his clothing and chuckles for surely that would be how a child would see him from the tattered black leather coat to the black breaches and black boots that adorned his feet.

“Aye, child, I’m the Man in Black” he says pulling her gently away from him, “and you are?” He doesn’t know why he asks, for a mortal child mattered nothing to him.

“I am Evie” she answers softly.

“Evie, A’ve brought ye a gift”

“A gift?!” Her eyes light up with glee at the thought.

Scanning the dark shadows surrounding her dream he can see the dream eaters fidgeting about nervously. He reaches into his belt to retrieve his gift.

Slowly, he pulls out small leather sheath and hands it to the girl. “Take hold the handle lass, and draw it out” he instructs and watches the confusion in her eyes as the curved Damascus blade comes into view. He watches her finger the blade.

“Careful, little witch” he warns, “‘‘tis sharper than the devils tongue” She heeds his warning but continues to eye the blade. He clears his throat gathering her full attention. “T’will cut the wee beasties down.” He states. He wonders if he should have just done the deed himself she was but a child and..

He watches in fascination as little Evie turns from him towards the beasts that have filled their bellies on her terror. She moves quickly, quicker than he imagined possible, her small arm arcing than slicing through one of the ghouls with enviable accuracy. He hears the nightmare screech and than nothing. Evie glances back at him as if seeking approval. He gifts her a rare, wane smile and waves her along. She spins to the next and repeats. He sees flecks of blood splatter across her face and a manic, gleeful smile as she cuts them down. He takes his leave before she’s finished.

Kneeling at her bedside he watches as her face relaxes. As if she had not a care in the world, her expression cherubic and peaceful. His dagger is clutched gently in her grip as one might expect a child to hold a beloved stuffed toy. The scent of spice, like warm ginger overtakes his senses. The cloyingly sweet smell the child once had is muted and far more tolerable, almost pleasant.

His step is light as he leaves her wood. The sound of goblins screams in the night makes him chuckle, for once they’ve entered a dream they cannot escape from.  Until the dreamer awakens they cannot be free and by that time she’ll have cleaned up the whole worrisome mess for him.

* * *

 

He doesn’t think of her again until one day he does.

He hears tell of a particularly vile sorceress who once seduced a good, kind king and bore him a daughter. The king met an untimely end and the daughter was said to have died in childhood, leaving the sorceress as the lone ruler of her land. It had the mark of the Asmodeus written all over it and thus a deal with the Evil Queen would be off the table as Asmodeus was father’s favorite and he would gain nothing from letting his half brother in on his great plans.

Further research tells him the land ruled by the Evil Queen bordered on the valley of the tower he entered twice before. More stories came to him from his followers but what catches his attention is the description of the babe the Queen had borne.

Pale skin.

Brown eyes as bright as the North Star.

Midnight hair as dark as a moonless night.

He reminds himself the he did not believe in coincidences and sends a trusted familiar (in the form of a raven) to keep watch over the strange little witchling he’d found in the tower.

Soon enough it was reported back that the Evil Queen would indeed visit the child weekly. Food would be left and wards would be reinforced, keeping the tower hidden in plain site.

 _Interesting_ he thinks and stores the information away.

The raven, Azazel, was a trustworthy creature so when he reports back that something was amiss with the child he knows it must be looked into immediately.

The shape he finds her in causes his temper to flare and the bird that had followed him to the tower room flutters wildly to get away.

Evie sits curled in an armchair, a new addition to the furnishings. Her locks are limp and tangled and her look is vacant. She’d grown in height since he’s last seen her but was painfully thin. Even so, there was something starkly beautiful he can’t  deny.

When her eyes fall on him he feels the anger surge again. The wild magic he’d sensed in her all those years ago oozes from lacerations on her arms. The scent of it engulfs her and makes his senses buzz. Blood clings to her nails, the delicate digits stained crimson.

Her mouth forms into a tiny perfect ‘O’ of shock as he grips her arms and drags her roughly to her feet.

“What is the meaning o’this” he demands through gritted teeth. When she doesn’t  respond immediately he shakes her once.

Evie’s head rolls like a rag dolls.

“You came back” she murmurs as if in a trance. “Man in Black…”

“Aye, my little witch and what do a’have for a greeting but sliced up flesh and a dead stare.” The baroque is thick and rage radiates from him. The flames of hell themselves crackle behind his crystalline eyes.

He watches her blink slowly before tears begin to well up. He lets loose her arms and Evie falls limp to the floor. Her sobs echo quietly though the room.

He paces about angry at himself for allowing something to make him so angry and angry at her for being a weakness he never knew he had. He sees the dagger he’d left those years ago laying haphazardly on her table and his fury only grows. He takes it in hand, squeezing it till blood wells in his own palm and shoves it in her face. “I leave a gift and this is my repayment. Ye use it to hurt yerself?”

She sobs quietly in response.

“Speak now child, explain yerself ” he demands, an unspoken threat left to hang in the air.

“There’s something inside me” she chokes out, voice harsh and raged. “It’s tearing me apart and it’s the only way it’ll stop.”

Eyes traveling back and forth from the dagger to the girl’s arms he freezes. The magic continued to stain the very air around her.

“Who put ye here?” He demands, reigning in his anger.

Evie doesn’t look up, “Mother.” She whimpers, “She said it was for my safety. That there would be those that would hurt me”

Yes, she would hurt alright. The Evil Queen must know that magic left untempered would fester and drive the girl mad. Even he finds it unusually cruel and distasteful.

“Ah’ve brought ye a gift.” He murmurs softly after a moment. “Come ‘ere”.

She moves like a skittish doe.

“Ah’ll not hurt ye, pet, now” he gestures in front of him “come here”. Thankfully she does as she’s told.

“How old are Ye now?” He asks curiously.

“Thirteen years.” She answers quietly, not meeting his gaze.

“Yer education has been sorely lacking” he says in disgust. He takes her chin gently in his hand and turns her head to him.  He bends slightly to meet her gaze on her level. “Ye’ll never harm yerself again. S’that understood?

Evie’s watery eyes stare transfixed as she nods slowly.

“Ver’ well.” He whistles quietly and Azazel appears in the window. “This is my eyes and my ears. I will know if ye’ve done something.” She swallows hard and nods again. “Now, for the gift I mentioned” he smirks at the glimmer of anticipation he sees.

With a snap of his fingers three books appear on her table, ancient tomes bound in dragon hide. “Ye are to study these, take them to heart” he instructs sternly. “Azazel will update me on yer progress and ye will let him know what ye need”.

“Yes, my lord” she says quietly. He bristles at the title.

“Hook. Ye will call me Hook. Names have power little witch.”


	2. Chapter 2

Building an army is an arduous task. It takes cunning and no small bit of charm. Luckily, Hook has both in spades.

Ol’ Scratch had undervalued his bastard son and Hook was willing to use the old man’s poor judgement against him. He’s been plotting and planning for centuries.When he was finished, Hell would know his name and all would bow down to him.

Azazel brings Hook frequent updates on the little witch, who is little no longer. Her power grows with each passing season he is told (as does her beauty the familiar adds as an afterthought). Hook has no excuse and no time to see her so he doesn’t, though he does contemplate her place in his grand plan.

He is a creature that does not believe in coincidences so he knows there is a purpose to her. He continues to work hard; swaying those sitting on the fence and placing allies where he needs them within Hell’s hierarchy.

Than, one day, Azazel does not show. Hook has little time to worry but as one day turns to two and two days turns to two weeks, a worm of concern burrows deep into his bones. He’s distracted by the absence. He feels the tower calling to him. Without any intentions of visiting his little witch he finds himself making the journey.

When he nears, Hook is over taken by the sense of unnatural stillness. There is no sound of birds twittering in the trees. No twigs snap in the underbrush for no animals are scurrying about. The scent of Evie’s magic is burned into his memory and it is thick in the air. He breathes it in, filling his lungs with the addictive aroma, she truly had grown strong. He whistles for Azazel but receives no answer. 

When he reaches the tower apartment he’s met with a gruesome scene. A woman lay across the floor, her body twisted in agony, her fingers extended like claws as she reaches toward the window. Much of her flesh is charred but he can easily see the hole carved in her chest. She’s been dead for a while and flies are heavy in the air surrounding her. A crown lay half melted and forgotten at her feet. It’s gems still sparkle as the light washes over it. It is a macabre treasure he has no interest in.

Hook’s black heart begins to pump quickly as his mind works in overtime. The old wards are gone. He is no fool and as the facts begin to compound in one another he comes to realize this could only be one person.

He glances one more time in disgust at the corpse of the Evil Queen. She’d met a violent end but he is entirely sure she deserved every ounce of it and more. Whether the wicked has paid their pound of flesh is not his concern though.

He moves to the window, the only view of the outside world his little witch ever remembered and stares out at the darkened forest. After a moment he steps from the ledge.

He lands lightly on the ground in a crouch and shakes off the putrid stink of the tower. Hook focuses on the dark magic, _her_ dark magic, he smelled earlier. It’s everywhere and it permeates everything around him. It’s dizzying, intoxicating. It takes Hook more time than he is comfortable admitting to track her.

Light filters through trees casting grosteque shadows. It is cool here, shaded from the warming rays of the sun’s light. All is still. 

He finds her by a stream. Hook is surprised to find relief washing over him. Her back is to him as she lays on her side. He can see her fingers toying with the water, tracing patterns in the gentle flow.

“She found my books”

The voice startles him. It’s strained and raw. He takes a step toward her.

“Stay where you are Hook.”

He’s not sure whether it’s a demand or a plea but he knows he’s sure as hell not about to be ordered around by a mortal. He continues to move toward her.

“When she came for a visit she found my books. She recognized...something. She said that I was playing with fire. That She would show me what happened to those that played in the flames” Evie’s sits up slowly. Her legs curl underneath her.

He could reach out and touch her but she radiates something uncontrolled. Dangerous.

“Evie, where is Azazel?” Hook’s voice is firm and holds no room for questioning.

“He tried to protect me.” Her body shudders. “He was my friend”

She sounds so small in that moment, reminding Hook of the child who once called him The Man in Black.

“He’s dead now” Evie’s body stays still as her hand points to a small burial mound. Hook only lets his attention leave her for a moment, taking in the small pile of rocks near the trees. “She did it.”

Evie grows quiet, her finger again tracing their patterns in the water. His frustration grows with each passing second. “Come here, pet” he demands quietly. “You test my patience, child.”

Evie rises slowly and turns toward him. He notes with surprise how her body has changed. The swell of her breasts, the flare of her hips, the shapely legs exposed for his view by the tattered black gown she wore. She’s no longer a little girl and the information hits him like a punch to the gut. He is painfully aware of how long it’s been since he last fed. The incubus within him wants a taste of the ripe woman in front of them.

Her hair hangs across her face obscuring all of her from his view. Her eyes are locked on her feet. Frustration bubbles over as she stops in front of him. He’s had enough of this foolishness. Taking her chin in his hand he jerks her face up to look at his, wiping a tangle of locks back behind her ear. His hand stills.

His young witch had spoke the truth, her mother had shown her what it meant to be burned. By the looks of it, with acid.

Her right eye is milky white,unseeing and unblinking. The skin from the eye down to the corner of her mouth is pulled tight. Pink and purple ridges of scarring mar her otherwise perfect skin. She’s been in so little sunlight throughout her life that the olive undertones of her skin do little to combat the paleness of it.

She is the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen; not in spite of the grievous injury but maybe because of it. She is perfectly imperfect and she looks at him like she’s afraid he’ll disappear. Her hands clutch his forearms tightly. For the first time in a hundred years he finds himself lost for words.

“I cut out her heart” Evie’s words are soft, whispered into the space between them. Like the silken touch of a lover’s hand, he finds them stoking a fire inside him. “She was still alive while I did it”

Hook growls lowly. Where had this woman come from?

The sounds of the babbling stream fills the silence as his hands move to stroke hair. He finds feathers, Azazel’s, twisted into the small braids scattered amongst the locks. The power that had been crackling around her ebbs at his gentling touch. She leans into it seeming to enjoy the heat he radiates.

“I’ve a gift for ye” He sees no enthusiasm in her good eye, the other staring dead into nothingness.

He channels his own energy focusing on her injury.  Fingers sweep gently over the puckered flesh softening it as they move. He could rid her of the scars entirely, could give her sight back in her eye if he wanted but he doesn’t. Hook knows now what her purpose is. She needs to be reminded of what was done to her. She needs to use it, channel the darkness and hate for his glory.

With the scars softened, movement returns to her face, the corner of her mouth no longer pulled into an eternal grimace. She finds she’s able to close the milky eye. He smiles as she gasps.The tips of her fingers stroke the softened flesh.

“what have you done?”

“Ah, my dear witch, Yer eye may no longer see the _here_  and _now_  but” he leans in to whisper against the shell of her ear “what _can_ or will be will be so much more clear”.

Her eyes are pressed shut. Her breath catches in her throat and she hums quietly.

“Evie, what do ye see?” He demands. Her gaze is heavy lidded as her eyes flutter open and she wets her lips with her tongue.

“Show me your true self” she demands and he suddenly feels powerless to stop the simple shift. It isn’t much, hiding the form of a demon in plain site among humans. The forms are similar if still very different.

Evie stares at him with a curiosity that is unhindered by any form of decorum. He knows he can cut a terrifying form but she seems unafraid. His skin is far more dark and ruddy than what is natural for a human, to touch it is to feel the lick of flame. A demon runs far hotter than any mere mortal. She steps into his space and, with slow tentative movements, reaches out to him. The tips of her fingers find his own and she studies his talon tipped digits . He presses the sharp point of one against her palm and he’s rewarded with a nervous giggle. The sound of it is fuel to the fire she’s been tending.

Evie continues her perusal. When her curious fingers trace the outline of his lips, Hook nips at the inquisitive digit. Long canine teeth fill his mouth the the brim, poking out from his upper lip. It doesn’t dissuade her and soon the lone seeing eye, deliciously like dark chocolate, is traveling up.

Before her hand can move up to stroke the small set of spiked  horns he grabs her wrist. “That is enough princess” His voice sounds of gravel. If she goes any further he can not be held accountable for what he does. A pretty pink tongue darts out to moisten her lips.

When had her lips become so full and inviting? He feels the gnawing hunger of an incubus again the thought of placing his mouth against her and drawing out the very energy that gives her life makes him almost giddy.

“Take me home, Hook?” She asks sweetly, softly. He shakes his head, tamping down the hunger and the animalistic urges it brings out in him.

He is so thrown that he lets his question go unanswered. What had she seen? 

Evie shivers under his assessing gaze and he removes his coat and places it around her shoulders. The leather engulfs her and he watches as she turns her head inhaling deeply at the collar. Her whole body trembles. He feels something powerful and strong roar to life in him.

As they begin their trek away from the forest, her prison for nearly all her life, she stops him. “You never asked me what I did with her heart.”

“What did you do with her heart, Pet?”

“I ate it.”

* * *

“I  _would like another gift.”_

His sits in his study staring into the flames of his fire. It roars and crackles. The memory of her earlier words echoes in his head.

Her request had shocked him. He’d only just shown her to her new room in his home. It was a lavish space. A great improvement on the old. A place to keep her close and protected and near his own.

_“You want more?”_

A knowing smile had pulled at her mouth, the softened scar allowing movement in a way it hadn’t when he’d found her.

“ _I’d like a kiss.”_

His wicked princess had requested something he was not prepared to give.

“ _Who’s te say my kiss won’ steal yer soul.”_

_“Who’s to say I won’t steal yours._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around and I hope you’ve enjoyed this so far. While this was going to be two parts I’ve decided to split it into three as chp 2 was getting to be far to long. 
> 
> Comments are my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

His appetite has never been so strong. Each night since he’s brought her into his home Hook has hunted. In the taverns and social clubs he finds his victims. He takes them home and gives them pleasure untold as he drains every last ounce of life force from their bodies. He leaves them with a satisfied sigh on their dying breath.

He doesn’t usually kill, it draws to many unwanted questions, but none of them satisfy his cravings. He’s reckless like he hasn’t  been since he was a youngling.

Unfortunately, he knows what he needs but he is unsure he’s ready to give up what he knows he will lose if he gives in.

His witch is teasing him. Her magic surrounds him not just when she is studying from his extensive collection in his library but at all times. It drives him to distraction.

Her sinful body is the only thing he can see when he closes his eyes.

She knows it. He knows she does. She enjoys it. Behind her coy smile a wicked temptress lies in wait.

* * *

 She lounges content on the red velvet chaise in his study looking like a spoiled cat while he contemplates strategic moves. She offers her counsel and her visions.

She informs him of the demon Balthazar’s impending betrayal and he ends the traitor before he has time to raise a finger against Hook. She foresees a run in with Asmodeus that she says he won’t end in his favor. He makes sure to avoid his half-brother.

* * *

Hook introduces Evie to the joy of hot baths. She takes them daily, soaking in bath oils and bubbles until her pale skin is red from the heat of the water. She keeps his servants busy each day tending to her needs.

She remembers nothing other than her tiny tower prison. Each and every luxury he presents is new and wonderful in her eyes. Hook takes her to the opera. In his private box she tucks in close to him, siting a chill. He spends the night with his arm wrapped around her, fingers absently trailing over the soft skin her dress exposed. When they arrive home he can’t remember if they saw Puccini or Rossini.

He finds he thoroughly enjoys seeing her spoiled.

The near erotic way she moans at the sweets and pastries he brings is enough to set him off on a hunt. 

* * *

He buys her fine clothes and escorts her throughout the society parties, both human and demon alike, that he attends for business and pleasure. She adapts quickly to the varying expectations of both.

Her uses to him are many. With her visions as a guide, she keeps him abreast of any danger he faces. She also works as a lovely distraction to those that would look further into his dealings. Despite her lifetime of solitude she is able to charm those she meets with ease. He can pick out her delicate laugh in any crowd.

She garners stares wherever she goes. Her hair shines like the blue black of raven wings. She allows her maid to brush and style it to match the most recent trends in fashion. Her dresses are much the same; more demure and buttoned up for human society, more flesh for demons. She pulls off everything with a careless ease.

One evening at a gathering for those like himself, another incubus becomes thuroghly besotted with his little witch. Hook ignores the other demon, chalking it up to the chaos of young age. When he offers money and favor in return for the girl Hook sees red. She may be his but she is not property, not cattle to be bought and sold. In the garden where they socialize he cuts the offender down. Without so much as a blink he spills the creatures innards across the ground. Evie stands at his side demurely and toes viscera from his boot with her own slipper. She giggles while the staff scurries to clean the mess.

When the excitement has died down and after he’s apologized to his host his princess slips her hand around the crook of his arm and begs for a dance. He does not deny her. He never can.

Tendrils of her magic move across the dance floor in their wake as he holds her. If he smirks at the others and their hungry looks, who can blame him?

* * *

 She slides into his lap while he holds council with a group of Cambion demons. She lays her head on his shoulder and closes her mismatched eyes.

Evie’s warm breath tickles his ear as she strokes the base of one of his horns. While he speaks, delicate fingers pay attention to each ridge along it. He has to focus so as not to purr with delight at the attention. He notices her eyes slowly open and lazily scan the gathered hellspawn. she leans in to whisper which of those at the table they’ll need to kill to garner the others favor.

She does the killing for him, slipping his own dagger from its sheath at his side. Watching her slip his blade amongst the folds of her gown does things to him. She excuses herself from the table when their meeting adjourns and circles the party. She looks of sweet innocence but he knows she is a cat on the prowl. He watches her lure her victims away.

While she returns, they never do.

She comes back to him without so much as a hair out of place and only a single drop of blood on her dress.

She pouts when she notices it and he promises her a new one for being so being such a darling, useful witch. Her smile as she preens under his attentions is an added bonus.

 

* * *

 

One night she brings him a treat.

Chastising him playfully for not taking care of himself. She kisses his check and reminds him how hard he’s been working. She’s right, he hasn’t hunted in a week and he feels sluggish and drained.

Her eyes dance with delight as  she ushers a bewitched blonde into his study. In another life the woman may have been hus type  but that has changed. He still accepts the offering graciously. After all, he is hungry.

Instead of excusing herself, Evie curls up in his chair near the fire tucking her legs beneath her. She watches as he soothes the tense victim, the little witches magic not able to completely relax her. His hands move across her body while he feels Evie’s gaze on him.

He drains the woman of her soul more quickly than he usually does. He doesn’t savor.  He catches Evie’s eye, looking up while his meals head falls back. His witch shudders as he pushes the hapless woman back further onto his desk and pushes her skirt up. Bone white teeth worry a crimson lip as she watches him.

He’s surprised he lasts as long as he does before his eyes slam shut and he finishes, imagining it's his princess in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: there is smut in this chapter. If it’s not your thing, you’ve been warned.

After nearly three months in his home she comes to him as he’d dreamed she would.

Hook sits at his desk, papers and contracts are spread around him in piles and stacks. He looks up and sees her peering through his door. He motions her in and she slips through the door.

She is an ethereal creature dressed in a simple white shift with miles of flesh exposed for his surveying eyes. The servants are scandalized by her way of dress. At home she opts not for the thick layers of tulle and petticoats, corsets and stockings but for the barely there fabrics that make night clothes seem heavy.

His mouth goes dry at the site of her. The shift clings to her curves reminding him of what he’d been unable to forget, at nearly twenty two she was no little girl. The sway of her hips transfix him as she moves across the room. He drinks her in. The hard peaks of delicate pink nipples leave their shadow against the thin fabric. Her breasts may as well be on display for all the shift does to hide them.

He realizes with sudden clarity that she is like a fine wine, a vintage with potential, that has been allowed to age and mature. He wants to taste her and see if she’s as delicious as the magic that surrounds her. She is no longer cloyingly sweet like sugar. She is like a spiced honey, complex and enticing.

“Good evenin’, princess.” His voice remains neutral as his eyes greedily devour her.

“I have a gift for you” the simple words drift from her lips to him and pique his curiosity. Was it not he who was supposed to shower her in gifts?

A perfectly arched brow raises in her direction. Her tongue darts out and his icy blues follow the movement of it along the plump red fruit of her lips.

“Other than knowledge o’the future what gift can ye give me, little witch.”

She crosses the distance between them and he pushes back from his desk leaving room for her to insinuate herself between him and it.

His fingers ghost along the naked flesh of her thigh when she comes to a halt, her leg pressing against his own. A tremor rolls through her. The black pupil of her seeing eye is blown so wide he can scarcely see the delicate brown iris surrounding it.

”I give you a vision of the future.” Evie’s voice waivers. For the first time in weeks she seems unsure. He cocks his head curiously.

The demon Hook is no man, nor is he good but that does not stop him from contemplating, if only for a second, on his reply.

“Tell me”

“You shall have me tonight” she says quietly, barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen it”

He's quiet, his fingers tips drift softly along the hem of her shift. His feather light touches serve to distract her for a moment before he wraps his fingers around her pale wrist and tugs her sharply into his lap.

He doesn’t have words to respond to her with. So he will show her. He will make her feel.

Evie gasps at the sudden change but he gives her no time to adjust. His hand is cupping her chin roughly and his thumb is stroking her face. She leans into the touch. Yes, he would have her tonight. He would take everything she offered and then he would be able to focus again.

His hand shifts to the back of her head and he continues soft strokes with his thumb along the base of her skull. His other hand rubs tiny circles along her lower back. He pulls her in to him to the point where he can feel her soft breath against his own lips.

“My true name” she murmurs “is Evelyn di Grimhilde”.

He allows his grip to loosen and she drifts away. He studies her.  

“Names hold power my love.” He says and she nods quietly.

“And I give it all to you.”

Something inside him snaps and he growls at the admission. It’s a gift he cannot, nay will not, deny. He leans forward to finally press his lips to hers. Hers are soft against the firm press of his own. For all her wicked deeds he has forgotten that some innocence remained in her, guarded first by her tower and than greedily by himself.

She seems unsure for a moment, so very still against his gentle encouragement, before she responds in kind, mirroring his actions. His arms wrap around her waist like banded steel shackles. It is a dream brought to life. He will allow her to be no where else tonight but in his arms.

Hook’s tongue strokes along the seam of her lips and they part as she sighs against him. He takes the opportunity to explore her mouth. His tongue moves confidently against hers. Evie’s hand grasp the front of his shirt. He wants to laugh at his silly witch and tell he isn’t going anywhere but he’s far to busy learning what his kiss can do to her. Her body is melting against his and he feels a wicked confidence bloom.

The realm of pleasure has always been his and he will show her all he can.

Tendrils of her magic reach out to him, wrapping around in him in a lover’s embrace they are confident where she is not. He breathes them in, fills his lungs to the brim. His hand slides from her waist to her thigh and he allows his hand to stroke up and under her garment. The princess arches against him, whimpering into his mouth.

He samples her soul, draws a tiny bit of life force from her with magic of his own. He does not swallow it down in greedy drops like he would a victim but merely tastes it, savors it. She writhes in his lap as he hums his approval against her mouth. It is more satisfying than any kill he’s made in months. The scent of her arousal mixes with magic and he finds himself drunk on the combination.

The thought of taking her in the chair is very appealing. It would not take but a minute  to draw her dress up around her hips and be buried inside her but he wants her spread out before him, bare and at his mercy.

With the decision made he grips her hips and lifts her off his lap and onto the desk in front of him As he rises to his feet. He takes a moment to admire his handiwork as he looks down in her. She’s panting lightly and the pink staining high on her cheeks matched that blushing across her chest. Reaching out, he places his thumb to her swollen lips. They part as he does and the digit slips into her mouth.

His groan echos in the room as she worships his thumb with her tongue, a promise of things to come. Her mouth is warm and inviting as she sucks his finger. She watches his reaction for a moment. Hook knots his fingers in the hair at her temple and pulls back gently. Her eyes flutter shut and she moans around his finger before he’s drawing it back out.

Strong arms scoop her up as if she’s his blushing bride (and perhaps she is) and he’s striding from the room and down the hall.

Her mouth is everywhere, peppering kisses from his jaw to his throat. The need to be buried to the hilt inside her is maddening only made more so when her clever little teeth begin nipping at his ear. Kicking his door shut with more force than necessary, he stands her on her feet. She wobbles on unsteady legs like a newborn colt.

“Take it off” he commands quietly, motioning to her dressing gown. Evie obeys silently, her eyes locked on his as the shift is slid over her head. Hook takes a moment to appreciate the long lithe lines of her body as her arms stretch up into the air.  She’s bare beneath the garment and he growls low in his throat. The gauzy fabric is discarded on the floor. “Did you plan on seducing me, my love?” he asks huskily.

“My love,” she throws the words back at him, “Did I need to seduce you?”.  

He steps into her letting his hands fall to her waist, her hips. His fingers press roughly into the yielding flesh he finds. He wants to leave marks on her, his claim of possession. “No, Pet, it always was going to come to this, wasn’t it.” Her smile was all the confirmation he needed.

She comes willingly when he pulls her flush against him. He needs to feel every soft plane of her body, smiles when she draws in a sharp breath. “I’m going to make ye mine” he whispers against her lips before he begins his assault on her mouth anew. She moans, head thrown back as his lips slip from her mouth to her throat and he nips and sucks darks marks into her skin. She seems to enjoy the sharp prick of pain and he bites gently, making her cry out.

“I’ve always been yours” she pants arching against him and maybe that's true, he thinks.

The bed is soft and inviting, covered in a decadent crimson and black down comforter and enough pillows to drown in. None of this matters in the moment as he walks her backwards, pressing her down into the mattress. He could be on the forest floor and it would make no difference as long as the woman under him was the same. She scrambles backward on elbows as he crawls after her. Had not that always been the case, him coming to her?

His eyes trace from the tips of her toes up to the apex of her thighs and than on to the lidded, lust drunk eyes. He feels like a predator stalking his prey.

As he moves he uses his broad shoulders to nudge her thighs apart and he is hit with the scent of her arousal. It leaves him feeling painfully hard as his erection strains in his trousers for release. 

Evie sits up and uses her nimble fingers to unbutton and remove his shirt. She watches him with uncloaked lust, soft fingers trailing across the scars marring his chest. There will be time for her to explore later. Right now it’s his turn. He sinks between her legs pressing open mouthed kisses along her  inner thigh. She keens and quivers under his touch. The sounds make his chest swell with pride. He kisses the tender skin nearest her core. Her hips cant trying to coax his mouth to move where she’d like but he is not ready for it. He places a hand low on her belly, pressing and stilling her movements. She whines softly.

“Soon enough” He coos returning to his work. The skin of her outer lips is soft and velvety as he strokes it gently. Her scent is so heady that he wonders how he’s not entirely lost his mind. When he slowly separates her folds he’s met with the shine of arousal and he can no longer stand the teasing game he’s been playing. He licks her than, from the base of her slit to the sensitive little bundle of nerves at the top. She cries out at the sensation. He does it again and again. Her sounds of pleasure are worth more than all the stars in the sky.

He slides a single finger into her core, feels the muscles unbearably tight around him. He works her slowly.

“Hook” she moans, “please...more”

He’s hit with the image of her on her knees before him, begging prettily. He feels his cock twitch at the thought. There will be time for that. Time for everything.

He inserts another finger slowly as he begins to fuck her with the pair of them. Her body is so tight, grasping at the pair of fingers, he can scarcely believe it. Her thighs tremble around him as his slow, lazy strokes develop a rhythm. He continues to lap her sweet juices up and if he samples just a little more of her life force, no one will fault him.

Everything about her intoxicates him; from her taste, to her her smell, to the sounds she makes. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe after having her he’d never be able to focus on anything else ever again. He doesn’t care.

He can hear her ragged breathing and feel her body tightening, almost imperceptible as he works her to dizzying heights. His mouth settles around clit and he begins to alternate between sucking and softly flicking it with his tongue.

She begs and pleads for release and than she becomes very quiet, her body bowed in excruciating pleasure. A final flick of his tongue draws her over the edge and her thighs clamp around his head while her body spasms. She sobs out his name over and over like a mantra. It’s a prayer he wants to hear til the end of his days.

Mine, his heart sings.

When he slides his fingers from her griping center she whimpers at the loss. He continues to stroke her gently as her body relaxes and her breath slows. “Hook…”

The smug demon crawls up her body before falling into place next to her, he pulls her against his chest. Her heartbeat, still erratic, is thrumming in her chest.

Her tiny hands run across his bare chest, feather light as he basks in the glory of her climax. He could go no further and be satisfied (if only for the night) but his little witch seems to have other ideas.

“Mm” she hums after a moment, looking up at him from where she lay draped across his chest. “This is not quite what I had in mind.”

He barks a laugh, a true genuine thing like he hasn’t done in many years, “An’ what would ye have, my love?”

That word slips from his lips so easily that he doesn’t even have time to contemplate it. He did not believe himself capable of it but here he was. In his own way, maybe for her he could love. The soft dreamy look in her eyes makes him feel like he does. It is the first time he’s seen her unguarded and he feels as if he has been made privy to a great wonder.

Her finger traces from his chest down to the coarse dark hair that trails from naval to below his belt line.

“I feel like you may not have understood what gift I meant.”

He knows, of course. He’s thought about it. Fantasized about it.   To know that only has hands (claws) have touched her, that only his mouth had ever lay claim to her was a heady thing. Hook watches as her smart hands trail to his pants and undo the fastenings. A hand slips under the fabric and begins stroking him. He clenches his fists at the wave of pleasure that washes over him. She is inexperienced but a quick study. The corner of her mouth quirking into a smile as she continues to stroke his cock. 

Evie looks up at him with mismatched eyes. She looks ravished. Her hair is a wild, mussed tangle. Her lips are swollen from his kiss. Small love bites litter the pale column of her throat. He wants to add more. He will before the night is done he promises himself. She chews her bottom lip as she works him. Yes, he thinks, She won’t be able to look in the mirror without seeing his mark all over her. The thought makes him smirk.

After a moment she slides her hand out from under his pants. She pushes weakly at the clothes, still boneless and drained from her release.

“Would ye like some help, princess?”

She gives him a tiny nod.

“You call me princess.” She murmurs thoughtfully as he shucks the last piece of clothing. He takes hold of her hips, lifting her gently. She’s a bright woman and moves to straddle him, a long creamy leg curled on either side of his pelvis.

“I do.” He says quietly as she positions herself above his hard length. He takes it in his hand, lining it up. He can feel the tip of his cock at her sopping entrance. It takes control not to thrust up and be done with the tension. If she was tight around his fingers, she was going to be nearly unbearable around his cock.

“You are the daughter of a queen.” He growls through clenched teeth as she slowly begins to sink down on his length, the thickness stretches her more than his fingers ever could. Evie’s  breath catches in her throat.

Her head tips back as he fills her. It is the most exquisite torture he’s ever experienced, feeling her tightness engulf him. Her mouth is open in a silent moan as she take him fully.

He lets her be still, let’s her adjust to the fullness she’s feeling. She’s panting from the exertion and small beads of sweat form at her temple.

After another minute her hips move, first experimentally than with more confidence. His hands trail up her body as she begins a slow grind against him. His fingers find the pebbled peaks of her dusky nipples and he plucks them. His touch begins softly but increases in pressure as she rides him. She cries out at the sensation and he can feel her walls clench around him. Hook groans as she places her hands flat against his chest, angling for better leverage.

“Ye are the daughter o’a queen” he groans out again as her pace increases.

“Yes...Hook.” He commits her moans to memory but he knows now that he is never letting her get away from him. He’ll have her in his bed til the end of time.

He is not sure if she hears him speak but he continues. He sees the tension building in her body. “Ye’ve been denied yer throne but I will give ye a better one.”

He plants his feet flat on the bed as he thrusts up to meet her rhythm. Her eyes bore into his.“Ye’ll be my Queen and all o’Hell will kneel at yer feet.” He speaks through clenched teeth, pistoning up into her welcoming body. He can feel his sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead as a familiar pressure begins to build at the base of his spine. “Come for me, my love. Let me feel yer lil’ death”

As before, her body stills for a split second before she is falling apart around him, coaxed by his demand.

He’s close himself but she is spent and exhausted. Wrapping an arm around her waist as she falls against his chest he rolls her to her back. He thrusts into her, paying little mind the ferocity of his love making, as he chases down his own release. Pleasure and pain mix in her voice as she screams for him. It’s music to his ears. Her arms wrap around his back, holding him close. Her nails scratch bloody marks into his shoulders. He pumps once, twice and the he is lost. He claims her mouth as he empties himself into her overstimulated body. She writhes underneath him as he gives her every last drop of his seed.

After a moment Hook props himself up on his arms and takes in the sight of her. Evie’s body is glistening with perspiration and her eyes are closed. Her chest rises and falls as she drags air into her lungs. He realizes, as he moves to brush a stray tendril of hair from her eyes, that somewhere along the line his human facade has slipped. He uses a razor edged talon to gently swipe the offending lock away. Her eyes flutter open, one white as the moon and the other rich warm brown. She looks at him, looks into him. There is something in her eyes that makes his heart stop. Mine, the voice inside him roars again.

Hook kisses her than. Achingly tender, butterfly soft kisses are scattered across her her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. They are kisses he’s never given before and she accepts them with a sleepy satiated smile.

“I wan’ to keep ye forever” he says laying down and wrapping her in his arms. Evie sighs contentedly, her free hand carding through his hair. He rumbles happily as she alternates between his hair and stroking along his horns.

“I would be yours always if you only ask.” She murmurs softly. He chuckles, kissing her forehead.

“Can I keep ye forever?”

“Yours.” She confirms, “forever”

* * *

Some say it is never good to pique the curiosity of a demon. Hook would be willing to argue with all of them and than point you in the direction of his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank everyone for reading this. I had a ball writing and hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do!

**Author's Note:**

> So let’s ya wave merrily to canon as we go zipping by. This has nothing (I mean nothing)to do with Descendants and everything to do with two characters I love. I should have the second chapter up in a day or so. As always, comments are always welcomed and accepted. Enjoy!


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